From the
JOKIN' AROUND DISK
by
LEEJAN ENTERPRISES
P.O. Box 66. Happy Valley.
South Australia. 5159.
Christmas time is here by golly,
disapproval would be folly.
Deck the halls with hunks of holly,
fill the cup and don't say when.
Kill the turkeys, ducks and chickens,
mix the punch, drag out the Dickens.
Even though the prospect sickens,
brother here we go again.
On Christmas day you can't get sore,
your fellow man you must adore.
There is time to rob him all the more,
the other three-hundred & a sixty-four.
Relations sparing no expensal,
send some useless old utensil.
Or a matching pen and pencil,
just the thing I need, how nice?
It doesn't matter how sincere it is,
nor how heartfelt the spirit.
Sentiment will not endear it,
what's important is: The price.
Hark! the Herald Tribune sings,
advertising wondrous things.
God rest ye merry merchants,
may ye make the Yuletide pay.
Angels we have heard on high,
tell us to go out and buy.
So, let the raucous sleigh bells jingle.
Hail our dear old friend Chris Kringle.
Driving his reindeer across the sky,
don't stand underneath when they fly by!
A XMAS CAROL
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
The whole damn family was drunk as a louse.
Grandma and grandpa were singing a song,
And the kid was in bed, flogging his dong.
Ma home from the cat house and I out of jail
Had just settled down for a good piece of tail.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter
I jumped off ma, to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I made my mad dash.
Threw open the window and fell out on my ass.
And what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and dozen reindeer.
With a little old driver, holding his dick.
I knew in a moment, that bastard was Nick.
Slower than snails, his chargers they came.
He bitched and he swore as he called them by name.
"On Dancer, on Prancer, up over the walls.
Quick now, damn it, or I'll cut off your balls!"
Up on the roof he stumbled and fell
And came down the chimney like a bat out of hell.
He filled all our stockings with pretzels and beer
And a big rubber dick for my brother, the queer.
He rose from the chimney with a thunderous fart,
Boarded his sleigh and readied to part.
I heard him exclaim, as he rode out of sight.
"Piss on you all, it's a hell of a night!"
(a Christmas poem from the Pennsylvania Dutch)
Der next night vas Christmas, der night it vas still
Der stockings ver hung by der chimney to fill.
Nuddings vas stirring at all in der house,
For fear dat St. Nicholas vas nix cum haraus.
Der children ver dried and gone to der bed,
Und Mudder in a night gown and I on ahead
Vas searching around in the closet for der toys,
Ve krept around kweit, not to raise any noise.
Now Mudder vas carrying all the toys in her gown,
Showing all her person from the waise down
Ven as we came near der crib of our boy,
Our youngest and sweetest, our pride and our joy,
His eyes wide open as he peeked from his cot,
Und he seed eeeeeeverything that his Mudder has got.
But he didn't even notice the toys in her lap,
He chust asked, "For who is dat little fur cap?"
Und Mudder said, "Hush", and she laff wit delight,
"I think I giff dat to your Fodder tonight!"
THE NIGHT BEFORE XMAS
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
There were empties and butts left around by some louse.
And the best quart I'd hidden by the chimney with care
Had been swiped by some bum, who'd discovered it there.
My guests all had long since been poured in their beds,
To wake in the morning with god-awful heads.
My mouth, full of cotton, hung down to my lap
Because I was dying for one more nightcap.
When thru the north window there came such a smell,
I sprang to my feet to see what the hell...
And what to my wondering eyes should show up
But eight bloated reindeer, hitched to a beer truck.
With a little old driver who looked like a hick
But I saw it was Santa, as tight as a tick.
Staggering onward, those eight reindeer came,
While he hiccoughed and belched as called them by name:
"On Shenley! On Seagram! We ain't got all night,
You too, Haig and Haig, and you too Black and White"
Scram up on this roo, get the hell off this wall,
Get going you dummies, we've got a long haul."
So up on the roof went the reindeer and truck
But a tree branch hit Santa before he could duck.
And then, in a twinkling I heard from above
A hell of a noise that was no cooing dove.
So I pulled in my head and cocked a sharp ear,
Down the chimney he plunged, landing smack on his rear.
He was dressed up in furs, no cuffs on his pants
And the way the guy squirmed, well I guess he had ants.
He had pints and quarts in his sack on his back
And the breath that'd blow a freight train right off the track.
He was chubby plump and and tried to stand right,
But he didn't fool me, he was high as a kite!
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work
And missed half the stockings, the plastered old jerk.
Then putting five fingers to the end of his nose,
He gave me the bird... up the chimney he rose.
He sprang for his truck at so hasty a pace,
That he tripped on a gable and slid on his face.
But I heard him burp back when he passed out of sight,
MERRY CHRISTMAS, you rum-dums, now really get tight!"
XMAS ON THE STARSHIP ENTERPRISE
'Twas the night before Christmas on the Enterprise-D,
On a routine short hop to Starbase 303,
With Data on duty in the captain's chair,
In hopes that the Enterprise soon would be there.
Just for something to do while the other crew slept,
He scanned where historical records were kept --
And with a blink of his eye and a cock of his head,
"Intriguing! Tomorrow is Christmas!" he said.
But no one was stirring, and he sought to find why,
And so he buzzed Geordi, who woke with a sigh:
"Christmas? It's only an old holiday --
Now just let me get back to sleep, okay?"
But is to wish Merry Christmas not human to do?
And so Data wished it -- to the whole ship too.
Everyone on the Enterprise woke from this clatter --
Picard rushed to the bridge to see what was the matter.
"What is the meaning of this noise, Mister Data?"
"Sir, is it not Christmas--?" "We'll discuss it later!"
Just then Worf said, "Captain -- a Klingon prey bird!
Its hull has been damaged -- it's uncloaking, sir."
"On screen," said Picard, as the Klingon ship hailed:
"Federation vessel, our life support has failed!
A strange ship attacked us, inflicting the worst
(though naturally, of course, we had fired on it first)."
The Klingons beamed over and the senior staff met
To try and determine the source of the threat.
Said Picard, "Mister Data, an assignment for you:
Give all of these Klingons something to do!
They think it's the Romulans we should look for --
Get them all off the bridge, before they start a war!"
So Data departed, while the rest of the crew
Wondered: Romulans? Ferengi? If not them, then who?
Said Worf, "Sir -- disturbance on Holodeck Three!"
The entire bridge crew ran down there to see.
Roared Picard, "Mister Data, what the devil is this!!"
"Sir, I have taught the Klingons how to celebrate Christmas."
And so there they were -- on holodecks 3, 4 and 5 --
With synthohol, singing and rokeg blood pie!
Soon the Big E was rocking with holiday cheer --
Friend and foe came from sectors both far and near.
The Romulans showed up with some Romulan ale,
The Ferengi brought goodies for free -- not for sale!
But a strange ship was coming, the captain was told,
With one crew member only, and a huge cargo hold.
Said the Klingons, "It's the strange ship that fought us -- attack!"
Said Picard, "On Christmas? -- Mister Worf, hold back."
And then as they watched the ship come into view,
Onscreen came its captain -- none other than Q!
He wore a white beard and a suit of red...
"Joyeux Noel, mon captain," was what Santa Q said.
"Tell those Klingons next time to not go so berserk.
You know, you need good defense systems in this line of work.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be warping away...
Who else did you think could do this job all in one day?"
"I'm sensing emotion," said Counselor Troi,
"Peace in the galaxy, good will and joy."
And they stood on the bridge and watched Q take flight, shouting,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"
THE 12 DAYS AFTER XMAS
The first day after Christmas,
My true love and I had a fight.
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burned it just for spite;
Then with a single cartridge
I shot that blasted partridge
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.
The second day after Christmas,
I pulled on my old rubber gloves,
And very gently wrung the necks
Of both those turtledoves.
The third day after Christmas,\
My mother caught the croup.
I had to use the three French hens
To make a chicken soup.
The four calling birds were a big mistake,
For their language was obscene.
The five golden rings were completely fake
And they turned my fingers green.
The sixth day after Christmas,
The six laying geese wouldn't lay.
I gave the whole damned gaggle to
The R.S.P.C.A.
On the seventh day, what a mess I found!
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned,
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.
The eighth day after Christmas,
Before they could suspect,
I bundled up the
Eight maids a'milking,
Nine ladies dancing,
Ten lords a'leaping
Eleven pipers piping,
Twelve drummers drumming...
(well, actually, I kept one of the drummers)
and sent them back collect.
I wrote my true love,
"We are through, love,"
And I said in so many words,
"Furthermore, your Christmas gifts were for the birds
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtledoves,
And a partridge in a pear Tree......"
AND YOU THINK YOU GOT IT BAD!
All night long, soot in the chimneys, smelly socks, cross dogs, shot at,
mistaken for a stork, driving all night in the snow, damn near killed by
a 747, Mrs. Claus pissed off, beacause I got in too late.
AND THAT ISN'T ALL
Donner and Blitzen and Rudolph got the shits over Albuquerque and you
should see my suit. The damn elves won't clean the sleigh unless I pay
them double time.
I am so sick of cookies and milk, I could vomit. The only highball I had
all night is when I slipped getting out of the sleigh.
My prostrate is giving me hell, pissed my pants at 20,000 feet and froze
to the seat. Allergic to pine needles, I itch all over. I think my
haemorrhoids are back.
HO! HO! HO! - Merry Christmas, my ass!
THE LEGEND OF THE XMAS FAIRY AT THE TOP OF THE XMAS TREE:-
Santa Claus was having a bad day. He was running well behind schedule
with toy construction, several of the elves had taken a sickie to attend
the final day of the cricket test, Mother Claus was having a crook
attack of PMT, son Claus had borrowed the sled and busted a runner, the
rain-deer needed crutching, and two had foot-rot, the mail from all the
little kids was piling up and the phone hadn't stopped all day.
There was a tiny knock on the door.
"WHO IS IT?", roared Santa.
He flung the door open, and there standing in the snow was a little
Xmas tree fairy with a tiny delivery book in her hand.
"Where do you want me to put your Xmas tree Santa?", she asked.
So now you know the real story of how the Xmas Tree Fairy came to be
on the top of the Xmas Tree.
THE EVENING BEFORE XMAS
by Chuck Fowler
(with apologies to Clement C. Moore)
'Twas the evening before Christmas and all thru my CPU,
Not a byte was stirring, not even in the MPU.
The disks were all stored in their boxes with care,
In hopes that stray magnetism would not appear there.
The kids were all nestled, snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.
And my wife in her nightie, and me in my cap,
Had just settled down for an overnight nap.
When from my computer room there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my waterbed to see what was the matter.
To the computer room I flew like a flash,
Yanked open the door and let out a gasp.
The moon, through the window, shown with a glow,
My computer sitting there on the table below.
When what to my sleep-filled eyes should appear,
But a mysterious image in my monitor, so clear.
It was a little old man, so lively and quick,
I knew, in a moment, that it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than a 4 Meg clock his commands, they came.
He laughed and shouted the source code by name,
"Now load memory Hex 4D and 45, 52 twice and a 59....
Now a 58 and 4F, 41 and 53. Enter 09."
Into the memory, all those commands did fall,
Then he commanded, with a flair, "Assemble it all...."
As papers, before a wild hurricane fly,
To meet with an obstacle and mount to the sky,
So up to the monitor, the bytes, all flew,
With one hundred twenty-eight colors, and St. Nickolas too.
And then in an instant, I heard from the speaker,
A couple of beeps, a hiss and some drive chatter.
As I cocked my head and was turning around,
Out of the monitor, St Nickolas came with a bound.
He was dressed in red jeans from his head to his feet,
And his clothes were so trim, so clean, and so neat.
A bundle of computer peripherals hung from his back.
(He looked like a salesman I knew in Hackensac.....)
His cheeks were like roses, his nose a small berry,
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his beard was as white as new driven snow.
The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a small little belly,
That shook when he laughed like a out-of-sync telly.
He was a bit overweight, but a jolly young elf,
I was amazed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, a nod of his head,
Convinced me that I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work.
After filling all my blank disks, he turned with a jerk.
Laying his finger aside of his nose,
Giving a nod, back into the monitor he goes.
And left on my screen, plain and bright,
Was the message
"MERRY
CHRISTMAS
TO
ALL
AND
TO
ALL
A
GOOD
NIGHT"
From the
JOKIN' AROUND DISK
by
LEEJAN ENTERPRISES
P.O. Box 66. Happy Valley.
South Australia. 5159.